The Truth of the Matter
by Bibbibabka Ditty
Summary: Castle's in need of cheering up. Does Kate have what it takes to get the job done?


The Truth of the Matter

Kate watched as the writer next to her fidgeted in his seat. Not that this in itself was unusual. The man wasn't exactly known for being still. But he hadn't spoken a word since his arrival. His previous record for being quiet was all of twenty minutes, and that was on a dare. Being the detective she was, she quickly deduced that something was wrong.

"Castle?" She asked. After waiting a few moments without getting a response she tried again, this time louder. "Castle!" He jerked his head up, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away. He was quick, but not quick enough, fore she saw the shame shining in his eyes.

She placed a hand on his knee and called softly, not as a hard-boiled detective, but simply as a friend. "What's going on? You've been quiet all morning."

"I'm going to quit writing" He stated with sadness and finality.

"What? Why?"

"It's not important. My writing doesn't matter. It doest make a difference."

Kate thought back to yesterday's interrogation. The guy had been a real slime ball. Once he knew he was cornered he had started spewing insults and accusations at the two of them. Did he really believe what he had said? Was that what got her usually happy-go-lucky guy down?

"Castle. Is this about what the guy in the box said? You can't believe anything that came out of his mouth. He was just trying to get under our skin to distract us.'

"No, I know. But it did get me thinking. I have been selfish all my life. What have I done that truly matters? That has substance. I just think its time to find a way to help others."

"First of all, you are the most generous person I have other met. You raised a child by yourself; you let your mother move in with you. You dropped a hundred grand down just for a chance to find the guy who killed my mother. Not to mention the numerous charities that I know you give too. You help here with the cases. You are not a selfish person Castle." Kate stated firmly "Second, actually, no you know what? Come with me." She said grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. He shot her a questioning look but she just shook her head in indignation and led him to her cruiser. They rode in silence for awhile before she pulled up in front of an old brick building. Castle followed her down a flight of stairs and into the basement. The lighting was dim so it took a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust. When they did he looked around him in awe. Books lined the wall-to-wall shelving. Stacks of books were placed carefully, forming a maze throughout the store. She wove her way to the rear of the store and settled into an armchair in the corner. She motioned for him to take the chairs mate. When he too settled she began.

"Do you know why I brought you here?"

"You wanted to go moth hunting? He quipped. Kate gave a weak smile before continuing.

"I brought you here to tell you a story. Don't interrupt, k?" When he nodded his ascent she began to explain. "People read for different reasons. Some read to learn things, some learn purely for entertainment. Now the most one can hope to learn from your books is a creative way to off someone, but they're tops on the fun factor list. But, Castle, some people read to escape. To forget the pain, the hurt, the troubles they are faced with. I am one of those people." She took a shaky breath and continued.

"After my mother died, I was a mess. I was withdrawn and depressed. I felt like nothing would ever be right again. Then my father fell into the bottle and things got worse from there. One day I couldn't take it anymore, so I left the apartment and just started walking. I must have walked for hours. I ended up here. The owner saw me shuffle in, and seeing my state, brought me to this chair and sat me down. She returned a few minutes later with a cup of tea. She sat next to me and didn't say a word while I finished the tea. Then she stood up, plucked a book off the shelf and sat it in my lap, then went back to her counter. I didn't even look at the title. I just opened it up and started reading.

I got sucked into the story immediately and for three hours I was able to escape everything I had been dealing with. For those three hours I was able to forget the pain and emptiness I felt. It also gave me hope. In it the good guys one, the bad guys went to jail and justice prevailed. So I found another book by the same author and brought it home. I finished it that night. And again, the good guys won, the bad guys went to jail, and justice prevailed. The next day I came back here and bought every book the author had written, and in each one, the good guys won, the bad guys went to jail, and justice prevailed. And it made me think maybe, just maybe, someday my mother's killer could be caught. That maybe the good guys could win. That maybe the bad guys would go to jail, and maybe, one day, justice could prevail.

A couple years later I found out that the author who gave me that hope would be doing a book signing here. That's when I first met you." She paused letting the enormity of her words sink in. When she saw the realization dawn in his eyes she continued, her voice no longer heavy with compassion and vulnerability, but dripping with determination, "And if I _ever_ hear you say that your books don't matter, that you don't help people, I swear I _will_ shoot you."


End file.
